


slow heat

by cishet



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Face-Sitting, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, Strap-Ons, basically just a pwp but i accidentally got a little bit tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 16:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21395506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cishet/pseuds/cishet
Summary: She thinks that Edelgard as she is when it is just the two of them alone, Edelgard as she is right now—smiling and laughing, sprawled out on their bed and painted in moonbeams, utterly at peace and absolutely debauched—is surely the most beautiful sight the world has never seen.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 39
Kudos: 582





	slow heat

Byleth has no mind for politics. She knows this, would never claim to understand its workings. Despite Ferdinand’s repeated efforts to explain to her the necessity of the various social events held in the palace’s great hall, she finds herself incredibly tired. Surrounded by lords and ladies attempting to curry favour with the Emperor, little more than snivelling men and women clinging to the vestiges of rotten power, imagining that they might somehow be spared when the axe strikes to cleave the system of nobility away.

Edelgard is on the other side of the room, having been accosted by some minor lord trying to do just that. Byleth knows that she shares the same distaste for these events, would rather dispense with them altogether. The difference is that Edelgard understands political necessity, and grits her teeth and plays along— another small sacrifice to her cause. Byleth, who is neither politician nor some great leader, does no such thing.

She strides through the crowd to Edelgard’s side, touching a hand lightly to the inside of her elbow. The Emperor, in crown and full regalia, turns to her, spared from some dull conversation with some dull noble.

“Pardon me for just a moment. What is it, Professor Eisner?”

Byleth feels the tightness in her voice, the slight edge that feigned politeness lends to her tone. It would be imperceptible to any but those intimately familiar with her. Byleth feels it and is suddenly very, very tired of this man and of this night altogether.

“Lord Vestra wishes to speak with you, my Emperor. He told me the matter was urgent, and insisted on your immediate presence,” she says. The light quirk of Edelgard’s brow tells her that she sees through the simple lie, but says nothing of it.

“Is that so? In that case, I must go at once.” She turns back to the man. “Please excuse my abrupt leave, but there is a matter which requires my urgent assistance. We may continue this discussion at a later date.” Edelgard allows Byleth to lead her off by the elbow, out of the great hall of such excessive posturing and prattle that she almost wants to sleep for another five years.

“Just what are you stealing me away for, Byleth?” Edelgard asks as she follows in step behind her down one of the palace’s endless hallways. There is no protest in her tone, only light amusement.

Byleth shrugs, letting niceties fall away. They were never needed between them, anyway. “I got tired. Got bored.” She looks back over her shoulder at Edelgard, at the deep red of the imperial garb she wears and the lightest blush of pink across her cheeks from what little wine she had imbibed. “Wanted you.”

“Oh?” Edelgard’s voice betrays no sign of hesitation or embarrassment. “You would do well to watch your step, Professor Eisner. It would not do to be reprimanded for impropriety.”

On some other night, Byleth might have answered with some playful quip of her own. Instead, she just hums in acknowledgement. She had already gotten more than her fill of wordplay and hidden meanings earlier. They round the corner that leads to their bedchamber.

Despite the absence of any lit candles, the room is bathed in a gentle glow from the moonlight which shafts through the window. The door swings shut with a heavy click behind them, and Edelgard rises up on her toes to brush a kiss to the back of her neck.

“Byleth,” she whispers, breath prickling against skin.

Byleth turns about without hesitation and brings their lips together, wrapping her arms around Edelgard’s waist. Edelgard sighs and pushes forward into her, walking them back until they reach the edge of their bed.

“Byleth,” she whispers, hands pushing to lay her down on the mattress.

The two of them have little free time for just themselves. There is a version of this story, Byleth thinks, in which she was never allowed to love Edelgard at all. So busy was the Emperor with the mountain of responsibilities piling up after the war, she continued working restlessly through the night and into the morning, every waking moment devoted to the Fódlan’s future. As it is, there is so little time to spare except the moments they steal away for themselves—small time carved out in baths and meals taken together. Sometimes, in a night of impulsive escape and shirked duties. 

In the cold light of the moon, Byleth is burning. There is a fire between them that blazes where Edelgard’s hands roam across skin—her face, neck, slipping under the black of her clothes to burn a trail up her sides. She submits to the flames that rise to consume and allows Edelgard to kneel over her, to shed the layers of metal and cloth that shield her body.

It is no time at all before she lies fully exposed and feels the weight of the gaze on her, heavy. Very slowly, Byleth sits up and lifts her hands to unwind hair where it is intricately wrapped around the golden ram’s horn crown. She tosses it to the side once it is free with a careless clang, and Edelgard’s hair flows down, gleaming with the silver of the moon.

Edelgard is sits above her, straddling her, and in this light her beauty is almost aethereal. Byleth’s hands shift from her hair to undo the fastenings of her dress. It is her turn now to burn a trail of fire, and she slips hands beneath the crimson dress, slowly sliding the garment away from scarred skin.

Once disrobed, Edelgard pushes her down against the bed once more and sinks her body into hers. “Byleth,” she breathes as teeth nip at her ear. “Byleth,” she breathes as a tongue licks a long line up her throat.

“Yes, Edelgard?” prompts Byleth in response to her name. Edelgard simply fixes her with a look and lifts up on her arms, shifting her body up the bed so that her breasts are positioned over Byleth’s face.

Byleth could tease Edelgard for her forwardness, if she so wished. There is enough time on this night they have stolen away. Enough time to unravel Edelgard slowly, giving her anything but what she wants, time to leave her whining and begging deliciously. Byleth thinks of that, pinning Edelgard desperate and breathless beneath her. She could, if she wished to.

Instead, Byleth obliges Edelgard’s silent request, raising her lips and tongue in service. She suckles gently and licks tight circles around one nipple, lifts a hand to stroke at the other breast. The weight of it fills her palm and rests there, heavy. Edelgard sighs wordlessly, and pushes herself closer into Byleth’s face.

Byleth’s eyes are closed as she works, devoted wholly to the task before her. She licks up in short, fast strokes and focuses on the sensation of the hard bud under her tongue, how it contrasts the yielding softness of the rest of the breast. She twists a nipple firmly with her fingertips and focuses on the sharp, sweet cry that fills her ears in response. She keeps her eyes closed, and sees how Edelgard looks above her—eyes hazy and half lidded, soft lips parted beautifully, silken hair radiant in the moonlight.

There is a throb of heat against Byleth’s hip, and a moan falls upon her ears from above. Instinctively, Byleth moves her free hand to slide over Edelgard’s ass, pressing that heat closer to her side. Edelgard moans again, _ ah, ah, Byleth _, and needs no further encouragement to begin rocking against her hip. Byleth continues her single-minded attentions, occasionally moving from nipple to kiss or bite or suck deep marks onto the expanse of Edelgard’s chest, and feels the rhythmic grinding grow steadily hotter and wetter.

It is Edelgard who eventually breaks them apart. She sits up, and a momentary disappointment clenches in Byleth’s chest as her breast slips from her lips. Edelgard’s expression above her, however, soothes that feeling immediately. Her eyes are unfocused, lost in desire. “Byleth, Byleth, Byleth,” she whines, voice cracking. “Please, Byleth, please, I need—”

Byleth leans up and seals their lips before she can begin to beg in earnest. Flips them over to push Edelgard’s back firmly down into the mattress. Slips a hand into the front of her panties, fingers seeking out the wetness here. Edelgard wraps her arms tightly around Byleth’s shoulders, trembles a silent plea, and Byleth hasn’t the heart to truly deny this woman anything, not when the fact that it even beats at all is because of her alone. 

So she compliantly sinks one, two fingers inside of Edelgard, almost drowning in the sensation of it, the fluttering clench around her fingers. She rocks them shallowly, pressing more than thrusting, and her palm sits flat to cover her mound and clit. Edelgard’s eyes shut tight and she slips her tongue into Byleth’s mouth, lips fumbling to sing out the only hymn she has ever known.

Byleth lifts her head, leaving Edelgard’s lips searching, and gazes at the woman beneath her. Brilliant hair splayed out against the sheets, pink lips swollen, the light blush from earlier replaced with a fiery flush, extending from her cheeks to her ears and reaching down her neck. For all Edelgard’s pride and strength as an Emperor and warrior, nothing holds more power over Byleth than the trembling, lovely form of this woman laid out before her.

She is less practised in destruction these days, has not had much cause to take up her sword since the war ended and those monsters lurking in the darkness were put to rest. Her place now is to teach, to nurture, and she slips into that role more easily now than before her heart was freed. But, looking down at Edelgard beneath her, eyes closed, hips rocking unconsciously onto her fingers, she feels the familiar old itch in her hands to take a body apart.

Byleth slips her fingers out of Edelgard, causing her eyes snap open. A hand grabs at her wrist, ready to beg or plead or use whatever it took to make Byleth fill the need within her. But Byleth lays a kiss to her forehead, and wipes fingers clean on her thigh, and murmurs, “Just a moment, my heart.”

She rises to retrieve the strap from their bedside, stepping into the harness. As she does so sees Edelgard, propping herself up on one elbow and slipping two fingers into herself, not thrusting but twisting, holding herself open through her lover’s momentary absence. Byleth could swear that some thread of sanity breaks within her. When she returns to straddle Edelgard, fastened and secure, she locks their eyes together and guides the hand up slowly to her mouth. Her tongue laps at the soaked fingers, curling around every square inch of skin, sucking and chasing the heady musky taste.

Byleth could make Edelgard wait, if she wanted. Could slide her length along her folds, rubbing tortuously. Could cause legs to wrap around hips in an attempt to force the junction of their bodies together, urging for relief. Has done so in the past.

Instead, Byleth guides Edelgard’s legs over her shoulders and sinks inside her with one long, slow, merciful push. Fingers had done their work earlier, leaving her open and ready and wanting. Edelgard’s hands scramble to grasp her neck, her shoulders, and her mouth hangs open inelegantly as she lets out a broken, lovely moan.

It takes a minute to find their rhythm. Byleth works at first with shallow thrusts, rocking into her easy from her position inside. She rests a hand on the curve of Edelgard’s ass to hold her as hips begin to roll more fluidly, thrusting deep and steady. She lifts the other to cradle Edelgard’s face, thumb stroking soothingly against cheek, as panting cries pitch higher and higher still.

Edelgard is a complex woman, Byleth has learned. Has a face for every occasion. For the battlefield, for matters of state, for friendships, for love. When Edelgard is pinned down with wrists bound as Byleth savours her taste in long, broad strokes, she is tender and compliant. When Edelgard straddles her face and pulls at her hair, hips bucking roughly into her mouth, she is fierce and domineering. When Edelgard presses her against a wall to whisper into her ear and tease her from behind, she is playful and endlessly, endlessly patient.

When Edelgard is being fucked open and taken apart by ceaseless waves of pleasure, hips thrashing and muscles clenching as she tries to hold Byleth closer, closer inside and against her, she is loud and desperate and keening and wanting. She cries out, the thickness of the strap stretching and filling her over and over, sending her walls crashing down and driving the last vestiges of restraint from her mind.

Edelgard is open and honest like this, achingly sweet voice creeping to incoherence and tongue aflame as the stream of her thoughts flows directly from mind to mouth. _ Please, Byleth, I need you inside me, Byleth please I need you, you feel so good inside I want it inside please give it to me please. _ And Byleth, ever obedient to her Emperor, bites down hard on her neck and answers with the motion of her hips, _ Yes, yes, yes, yes. _

It is when one of Edelgard’s legs begins to shake and slips from her shoulder that Byleth bends her in half, fucking her harder as her hips lift helplessly upward. It is when Edelgard’s voice begins to run itself hoarse from endless alternation between _ please, please, let me have it please _ and _ thank you, you’re so good it feels so good thank you _ that Byleth pushes fingers deep into her mouth, letting Edelgard’s spent vocal chords rest as she instead says the same not with sound but with the suction of lips and swipe of tongue.

Then all at once Edelgard is quiet, mouth stilling to speak only with the cracked _ ah, ah, ah _ drawn out from deep in her throat. Her eyes roll back and hands fist hard at the sheets and Byleth rides and rides as Edelgard trembles and clenches, suspended in air, and finally falls with a frozen cry.

Byleth slows her movements as she works her through the aftershocks, eventually pulling out gently to let her breathe. Edelgard is so beautiful like this, so pliant and spent beneath her, the red flush of her skin a stark contrast to her glowing moonlit hair. Heart thunderous, Byleth leans in to press tender kisses to Edelgard’s lips, her own hair forming a curtain of midnight around them.

Edelgard opens her eyes, chest still heaving, and smiles up at her dazedly. “My light, you are a marvel.” Byleth wonders at how Edelgard manages to pluck the words straight from her mouth before she has the chance to speak them.

Edelgard’s hands lift from the sheets to reach towards Byleth’s hips, fingers undoing the fastenings of her harness. “Byleth,” she murmurs, the shape of her name so familiar on her lips. “Let me— let me—”

The harness comes undone and Byleth rises to remove it, dropping it to the side and letting its wetness ruin the sheets. Before she can lower herself back down, Edelgard grasps her hips and pulls her forward. “Please, Byleth. Let me.”

She does not need to be told again. The unattended flame between her legs burns, and she sinks down and allows Edelgard to stoke it.

Byleth does not think she will ever tire of seeing Edelgard beneath her like this, head bracketed by her thighs, eyes trained so intently on hers. She drips and smears onto Edelgard’s face and feel as lips and tongue begin to caress tenderly, insistently, seeking out the source of that wetness. They move to kiss and suck and circle and stroke her clit, and Byleth groans, low and helpless. She cannot stop the instinctive movement of her hips as she grinds hard into Edelgard’s face, continues to push and push deeper into the sensation.

In some moments, Edelgard holds her tongue flat and broad against her, pressing up against every part of her as Byleth thrashes from chin to nose and takes and takes. In others, Edelgard puts her strong arms to use and holds her hips still, forcing her to stay in place as a fiery tongue rubs ceaselessly at her clit, the focused stimulation almost too much to bear.

The heat continues to build as Byleth rocks into Edelgard, burning strokes threatening to consume her. It builds and Edelgard’s hands slide to her ass, kneading indulgently and pulling her down in one move. It builds and Byleth grabs hold of Edelgard’s head, trying desperately, somewhat futilely, to press herself even closer to that white-hot heat.

When she comes, Edelgard moans even louder than she does, vibrations shooting up her spine and making her toes curl. Tongue continues to slide insistently against her, repeating the same motion again and again, drawing out her climax and she holds, holds on that plateau until her thighs lose the strength to squeeze around Edelgard’s head, rendered a shaking and useless wreck.

Byleth lets herself fall down backwards atop Edelgard’s body, thighs still framing her face and head landing somewhere around her feet. The position is somewhat absurd, and far from comfortable. Edelgard laughs, laying soft kisses to Byleth’s inner thighs, and Byleth tries only to catch her breath. After a time, she rolls off Edelgard and rotates around to nestle against her side, arms wrapping around her and head resting against her shoulder, face tucked into the crook of her neck. Presses a kiss there and sighs, contented.

There is a moment of blissful silence between them as the pounding of the heart in her ears begins to fade. Then Edelgard touches her own face laughs again, and the sound makes her heart sing instead. “You’ve made quite a mess of me, my light,” Edelgard sighs.

Byleth looks up at Edelgard and sees her own slickness smeared across her face, glistening in the light of the moon. She knows she should feel some shame at the sight—knows embarrassment is a normal human emotion—but then she never has quite been a normal human. She thinks that Edelgard as she is when it is just the two of them alone, Edelgard as she is right now—smiling and laughing, sprawled out on their bed and painted in moonbeams, utterly at peace and absolutely debauched—is surely the most beautiful sight the world has never seen.

Byleth thanks her beating heart for the life she gave her, and speaks it in the gentle press of lips to skin.

**Author's Note:**

> yes i'm a lesbian  
yes i'm projecting my horniness onto edeleth  
yes we exist yes we have rights!
> 
> fun fact this entire thing was written on my phone while sitting on public transport bc i'm feral
> 
> i exist at @butchidols on twitter if you want to talk to me about edelgard von hresvelg


End file.
